


Dancing for the Stars

by DragonWrites



Series: Emissary Davenport [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWrites/pseuds/DragonWrites
Summary: When Mavis is reluctant to dance, Davenport tells her the story of how he once took dance lessons to acquire the Light.  But the story is much more complicated than he'd ever told Lucretia.  Because he'd never told her, at the time, that he was an emissary of Garl Glittergold, the gnomish god of pranks.  And Garl had his own mission for Davenport.Set in the same continuity as Joker's Wild.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, just a heads-up that this story is set in the same continuity as my other story, [Joker's Wild](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557187/chapters/36115695). Chronologically, this story happens in the middle of that one, during the Stolen Century. While this could probably be read on its own, it's recommended that you read at least the first few chapters of Joker's Wild before this one.

It's a quiet night on Faerun.  Stars glimmer brightly over Bottlenose Cove, and waves lap against golden sand still warm with a sun that has already set.  Music and laughter rise up through the air as a group of Extreme Teen Adventurers dance around a massive bonfire, singing camp songs.

From a distance, Mavis recognizes the current tune as an old drinking song her stepdad would sometimes come home singing in a loud, cheerfully rough voice.  At least he'd cleaned up the lyrics.  Some of those lines had just _not_ been appropriate for this age group.

She hears the snap of twigs behind her, and nearly jumps as a short figure steps out of the darkness.  Then she relaxes at the sight of a familiar gnome, his messy red braids crusted with salt air, his impressive sailor's coat set aside for a comfortable Hawaiian shirt, deep red with a pattern of little white anchors.

"Oh hey, Uncle Dav," she says, sitting back on the log. 

"Hey, Mavis.  You're pretty far away from the crowd.  Everything okay?"

She glances down at the bonfire.  "I'm good.  Just needed a break." 

Davenport nods.  He tilts his head in silent question.  She scoots over, giving him room to sit beside her on the log that overlooks the beach.  She holds her breath, bracing herself for what she knows is coming.

But it doesn't come.  Davenport sits in silence, watching the others dance.  Merle is leading them in a raucous round, while Mookie bangs some coconut shells together to the beat.

She bites her lip.  "I suppose you're gonna tell me I should go down and have fun and dance with the others," she says. 

He shrugs.  "Is that what you want to do?"

"No, not really."

"Then don't.  Dancing isn't your duty.  You should dance because you want to dance.  And if you don't, don't."

"Oh."  It's such a surprise, to be given permission to stay back, to not feel the pressure to mingle and smile and be sociable.  She knows Merle is trying, but he's…well, he's _Merle_.  He's always at the center of every party, and he wants everyone to be there with him, too.

But of course Uncle Dav isn't like that.  He spends most of his time at sea.  He wouldn't do that if he didn't enjoy long stretches of quiet solitude.

"Did he throw a lot of parties?" she asks.  "On the Starblaster, I mean."

Dav chuckles.  "Oh, sure!  Lots of times.  He was always trying to lift our spirits."

"Did he try to make you dance?"

He gives her a wry smile.  "Sometimes.  I was pretty terrible at it, and politely abstained for…well, more than half the century, I think.  But after I took dance lessons, I was a little more okay with it.  But only when I wanted to," he adds.

"You took dance lessons?"

He shrugs, a silent expression of guilty-as-charged.  "Gnomish community dances."

She mulls this over, as she watched the dancers shout and clap on the beach below.  Davenport taking dance lessons sounds vaguely familiar.  She remembers a brief mention of it in the Story.  "What made you want to dance?"

He is silent.

"Duty, wasn't it?" she says.  "You needed to get the Light."

He chuckles.  "An excellent deduction, Mavis."

"It wasn't hard.  You did have a reputation for being very single-minded."

"Well, the Story was right about that.  Yeah, it was the Light."  He pauses, then adds, "At least, at first."

She shuffles closer.  "Tell me?"  She always loves Uncle Dav's stories of the Century.  Even if she knows a lot of what happened because of the Day of Story and Song, it's always nice hearing straight from the source.

He clears his throat, looks away.  "Well, it's—it's a long story, Mavis.  And it's got some scary parts."

She gives him a flat stare.  "I'm not a little baby," she says.  "Angus lent me half his collection of murder mysteries, and they didn't scare me at all."  Well, maybe some of them were a _little_ scary, but he didn't need to know that.

"All right, all right!"  He winks.  "But this time, you'll get the full version.  Nobody on the Starblaster knew the full version, not even Lucretia.  Because I didn't tell them the full story.  Because nobody on the Starblaster knew that I was also an emissary of Garl Glittergold at the time."

Mavis gasps.  "Wait…you've never told this story to _anyone?"_

"You'll be the first."

She beams, scooting closer to him on the log. 

Davenport leans back, resting his hands on the log and tilting his face up to the stars.  "It began when we saw the Light fall right in the middle of a gnomish warren-city…"

 

#

 

The door to the dance hall was opened by a short gnomish woman with a warm smile and bright blue eyes.  Her face was young, but her hair was a shock of white, pulled tightly back into two puffball pigtails at the nape of her neck.  "Good afternoon!" she said.  "Are you here for the—"

"I'm here for the dance lessons, please!" said Davenport, plastering a big grin on his face.  "If this is the, uh, the place for dance lessons, I am so here for that!  Those lessons, I mean.  To dance."

She raised her pale eyebrows, but she smiled all the same.  The door opened wider.  "Come on in, then!  You're just in time.  I'm Windi Featherlight, the instructor here." 

"Davenport," he said, extending a hand.  She gave it an odd look, and he winced inwardly.  Did they not shake hands here?

She chuckled, and gave him a low-five. 

Inside, they passed down a hallway that was clean but shabby with age.  There were signs of recent upkeep, however:  patches of fresh paster on the walls to shore up cracks, a smaller studio that was in the middle of being repainted.  Finally they came to a large circular studio lined with benches and lit by a circular glass skylight in the center of the domed roof.  The walls were painted a pale sky blue, faded with age, and the floorboards were scuffed and dull with use.  Large windows looked out into the populous gnome city. 

In the distance, Davenport could see the sturdy stone walls that encircled the city's above-ground portion.  Soldiers walked back and forth on top of the wall, spears and bows prominently displayed.

But here, inside the dance studio, the atmosphere was genial.  About a dozen gnomes lined the benches, chatting cheerfully.  Davenport took a seat at one end, next to a broad-shouldered gnome woman with thick auburn curls.

"Well, it looks like it's about time to get started!" said Windi, clapping her hands for attention.  "I see some familiar faces and also some new ones.  Why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves?  Your name, and what brings you here to dance with us."

Davenport tapped his foot restlessly, his mouth pressed shut, praying to Garl that Windi didn't pick him first. 

Through the door in his heart, he could hear his god chuckle.  _Seems like a waste of a good prayer, don't you think?_

Before he could reply, a gnome on the opposite end of the benches raised their hand.  Davenport relaxed.

"Heyoo, I'm Brightly," said the gnome, with a warm smile.  "I've been taking lessons here for about a year now.  I really like cutting a rug up at the temple, and I came here to take my game to the next level.  Heyooo!"

The gnome next to him high-fived him.  "I'm Robin," she said.  "I've always had a dance inside me, and I just want to get it out there for the world to see!"  She threw up her hands, as if the dance inside her was bursting out already.

"Oh, definitely," said the next gnome.  "I'm Torque, and I just love dancing so much!"

"Heyoo, didn't I see you doing flips at the last Communion?" asked Brightly.

"Heyooo, you sure did!"  They high-fived.

Davenport's insides felt like they were shriveling up.  He hadn't attended a Communion at a temple of Garl since his homeworld got swallowed by the Hunger decades ago.  And even then, he hadn't particularly enjoyed them.  Hours of dancing and storytelling and stand-up improv were never his thing, even if Garl Glittergold, the Lord of Pranks, had decided in his inexplicable wisdom to make Davenport, the least funny gnome in his warren, his personal emissary.

And from the looks of things, the Communions in this warren were no different than the ones he'd grown up with. 

Finally they reached the broad-shouldered gnome next to Davenport.  She leapt to her feet with an agility surprising for her bulk.  He realized with a start that she was all muscle. 

"You can call me Cookie!" she said, with the biggest, most enthusiastic grin he'd seen so far.  Which was saying a lot.  "And I wanna learn to dance so I can show Garl Glittergold how much I love him!  I've dedicated my life to serving him.  When I'm not here, I patrol with the Justifiers!  Heyooo!"

 _"Heyoooo!"_ the rest of the gnomes cheered.

It took Davenport a moment to catch up with what she was saying.  She worked for Garl, too?  And what the heck was a Justifier? 

Wait, were they all cheering?  Was he supposed to cheer?

"Heyooo!" he shouted, into a room that had already fallen silent.

Damn it.

Everyone turned to look at him.  A few giggled.  Cookie sat back down next to him, her smile plastered on her face, her sharp eyes regarding him.

"You're next, new guy," she said.

He took a deep breath, and forced a smile.  "My name is—um, Davenport.  I don't—I'm not very good at dancing.  But I want to get better at it!  Because I just, um, really love Garl!"  He looked around the room.  "Heyoo?"

Cookie laughed, and slapped him on the shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off the bench. 

Windi smiled.  "Well, why don't we get started?  We're going to start with a traditional contra dance, so just line up across from each other in the center of the room.  Over the course of this dance, we'll be changing partners, but at the end of every verse we'll be back with our starting partner.  So pick who you want to be teamed up with!"

Before Davenport could even think, he felt the strong hand of Cookie clasp firmly onto his shoulder, an indisputable claim. 

She grinned.  "Whaddaya say, partner?"

Davenport forced a smile.  "Heyoo?"

 

#

 

Davenport was not a good dancer.  He could get the timing right, but his spine was stiff as a steel rod, and every muscle in his body was tense.  Still he soldiered on through the steps, still he kept a smile plastered to his face until his cheeks ached.

Windi was cheerfully supportive, tapping out the rhythm with a small baton clutched in her tail while music played from a crackling record player.  She moved around the room with the grace of a practiced dancer, watching the pattern unfold.  Every so often she would guide an errant dancer back into the flow. 

Cookie was enthusiastic, but she was not as gentle.  Whenever Davenport messed up the pattern and started moving in the wrong direction, she'd grab his arm and yank him back into place.  He suspected she didn't quite know her own strength.

So by the end of the night, when he stumbled his way back to the inn, his entire body was sore.  He collapsed into bed with a sigh, and pulled the Stone of Farspeech from where it was tucked beneath his shirt.

"This is Captain Davenport, checking in," he said.  "Starblaster, please respond."

There was a pause.  Then a familiar rough voice came on the line.  "This is Barry here.  How ya doin', Cap?"

He smiled weakly.  "Pretty sore, if I'm being perfectly honest.  But I'm alive.  I tracked down the rumors of the Light to a local dance studio, so I signed up for a class there."  He kicked off his shoes and began to massage his feet.  "Haven't learned anything yet, but I'm keeping my ears open.  How are things on the ship?"

"Running smooth," said Barry.  "We completed the ship camouflaging today, and the scanners haven't picked up any patrols within visual range.  We think we're good."

"Don't get lazy," said Davenport.  "I wouldn't be surprised if the warren uses stealth scouts in addition to their more obvious armored patrols."

"Roger that, Cap."

"Anything else?"

There was a pause.  He could hear Barry conferring with Lup.  "We did pick up some weird seismic activity," he said.  "We don't know enough about the geology of this world to really know if it's abnormal or not, but it's nothing immediately dangerous."

"Keep an eye on it, all the same."

"Will do!"

"Thanks, Barry.  Davenport, out."  He thumbed the Stone and set it aside.  Crossing his legs beneath him, he stretched his ankles.  In a quieter voice, speaking to the air, he said, "Arumdina?  Are you there?"

 _What is it?_   The voice in the back of his head was curt, bordering on irritated.

"Who are the Justifiers?"

There was a pause.  _Why are you asking me?_

He frowned.  "Oh, I don't know," he said, raising one eyebrow.  "Maybe because Garl Glittergold, leader of the gnome pantheon, has a magical talking battleaxe named Arumdina the _Justifier._   I figured you'd know something about it." 

 _Well, maybe you wouldn't be asking me,_ she said, _if you actually bothered to study the lore of your own patron!_

He winced.  It was a fair accusation.  But it wasn't like he'd thought to bring sacred gnome texts onto the Starblaster.  And faith practices varied so much from plane to plane, and he had the Mission to think about, and—and there were always other things he needed to be doing.

But getting into a petty argument with Arumdina wouldn't help him right now.  He sighed.  "Okay, you're right, that is a failing on my part.  But I'm asking now.  Please."

She was silent for a moment.  Then she said, _They're a military order who fight in Garl's name.  Defending communities, acting as marshals, that kind of thing.  Sometimes they call themselves the Companions of Arumdina._

"So they're your fan club," he said, mouth quirked in a slight smile.

The joke didn't land.  Arumdina said nothing, but he could sense her bristling in annoyance.  He cleared his throat.  "So Cookie is one of Garl's?"

_She's not an emissary, if that's what you mean.  But she is a servant.  All the Justifiers are._

"So…she might help me retrieve the Light, if I told her I was an emissary?"

Her laugh was short, bitter.  _She might.  Or she might just cleave you in twain for a liar and a thief._

He sat up as if he'd been stung.  "She'd—?  Arumdina, are you being serious?"

But she didn't reply.  He sat for a while in the silence, his feet throbbing. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night.  Outside, patrols marched through the streets, their boots a rhythmic tattoo on the cobbles.  A beat without music.

 

#

 

Three months ago, the gnomish warren-city of Fairvale was brutally attacked by an army of berserkers from the northlands.  Fairvale had sturdy stone walls surrounding it, but after a long period of sleepy peace, their patrols were scanty and their guard was down.  The attack caught them off-guard, and a horde of Big Folk scaled the walls and invaded the city.  Precious cultural centers were destroyed, artifacts stolen, buildings burned.  The invaders were finally fought off, but at great cost.

Now, Fairvale bristled with steel. 

The crew of the Starblaster didn't know that, at first.  They only knew that the Light had come down in the area.  Magnus, Taako, and Merle had been on one of the scouting parties, and saw the city, and approached.  Magnus was always good with people.  He prided himself on his rustic hospitality, and besides, he was an experienced adventurer.

Then he took an arrow to the knee.

Over his Stone, Davenport called an immediate retreat.  They regrouped, and Davenport went back to the city with Merle, hoping the locals might be more amenable to a gnome and a dwarf.

The soldiers on the walls attacked the moment they came in range. 

Other local towns told the story to the crew.  Fairvale had closed itself off after the attack, allowing no outsiders to pass through its walls.  Even gnomes from outside were held under close scrutiny.  Anything alien to the warren was viewed with fear and suspicion.  Nobody knew how long this self-imposed isolation was intended to last.

That night, Davenport retreated to his berth.  "Can you do something about this, Garl?" he asked.  "Can you tell the local priests that I'm your emissary?  If I can retrieve the Light, this world and your people will be saved."

But Garl was oddly silent.

"Garl?" he tried again. 

 _My Utirhant,_ said the god, using the affectionate nickname another Garl had given him when he was only a boy, on a home lost to the Hunger.  His voice was thick with muted sorrow.  _I could tell them.  But they will not trust you._

 _And with good reason,_ Arumdina muttered in the background.

The conversation left him troubled.  But he could not give up.  So he tried another tactic.  He borrowed Taako's Cloak of Concealment and snuck into the city alone, to integrate himself into their population.  The Starblaster was to remain outside the ring of the city's patrols, concealed in dense forest.  Davenport carried his daggers and an enchanted amulet which, if broken, would give him a one-use instant teleportation back to the ship.  An emergency ripcord if things turned bad. 

He didn't know what to expect from this insular, wounded community.

He definitely didn't expect dance lessons.

 

#

 

Windi got the class's attention with a soft rap of her baton on the floor.  "Now this next one, the Gillyhop, is a two-person dance," she said.  "It's a very energetic dance."

Davenport paled, anticipating being flung around like a rag doll by an over-enthusiastic Cookie.  But Windi stepped up to them as they were partnering off, and she set a hand on Cookie's shoulder.  "Cookie, since Robin is out today, would you be willing to partner with Brightly?  And Davenport, would you be willing to help me show the class the steps?"

"Oh, sure!"  Cookie gave him another bone-shattering clap on the back.  "Go get 'em!  Heyoo!"  And she skipped over to Brightly, picked him up, and swung him around while the other gnome whooped.

Davenport stared.  Was the Gillyhop a well-known dance that everyone knew about?  Was it something obscure?  "Um, I--I'm not--that is, I don't know--"

She gave him a slight smile as she led him over to the gramophone.  "Don't worry, it's very straightforward.  And you pick up steps very quickly.  Just follow my lead."  She got the class's attention with a wave of her baton.  She directed him how to set his feet, and guided his hands to her:  one over her hip, another clasped in her hand.  "Now class, follow us.  We'll start on the left foot, moving slowly.  Like so…"

They went through the basic step outline a few times, gradually increasing in speed.  And finally Windi turned the gramophone on, and they fell to dancing in earnest.  Davenport kept himself focused on the pattern.  Left-back right-step left-front, left-back right-step left-front.  The dance wasn't difficult when he didn't have to worry about Cookie inadvertantly yanking his arms out of his sockets.

"You've got the pattern down," she said, halfway through the second dance.  "But you're still very stiff.  Can you _feel_ the rhythm?"  She shifted.  " _Left-_ rightleft, _left_ -rightleft."

He tried to put more emphasis on the first step, and stumbled.  "Damn it," he muttered, glaring at his feet.

She laughed.  "It's okay, try again."  She pulled him back into rhythm.  "Dancing is a lot like speaking, or singing.  It's not interesting if it's a monotone, every step with equal weight.  Let the music flow through you.  Let yourself feel what it's trying to say, and what you want to say with it."  With a brief twist of her wrist as the only signal, she swung him around and dipped him, catching him easily before he could hit the floor.  His heart pounded, and his breath caught in his throat.  She pulled him back to his feet, seamless with the rhythm.

He focused even more tightly on the rhythm, trying to get his footing back, both physically and mentally.  The closest he'd ever come to dance was the bizarre, oddly sensual interpretive jazz dance that Merle had come up with on Legato.  And the only thing that dance said was whatever Merle was feeling at the moment.  "And what is this music trying to say?"

She gave him that small, thoughtful smile that he was beginning to realize was one of Windi's things.  "What do you like to do, Davenport?  Something that you enjoy?"

 _Flying._   He clamped his mouth down on the word, swallowed it back down.  There were no flying ships on this world that he knew of, and he could not be an outsider here.  "The stars," he said instead.

"The stars?"

"Yeah.  Stargazing, making star maps, that sort of thing."

Her smile broadened.  It wasn't like Cookie's wide smile, but something deeper.  "And how do the stars make you _feel?_ "

He closed his eyes, pictured the night sky in all its glory.  "Limitless," he said, his breath leaving him.

"Show me," she said.  "With your dancing."

The music built to a crescendo.  He hooked his arms around her waist, lifted her and swung her around, her feet completely cleared of the ground.  He guided her in a smooth, controlled circle and set her gently down again, like the Starblaster.  She touched the ground, her steps so light that she still seemed to be floating.  He was surprised to find himself laughing.  They transitioned smoothly back into the base step.

"The stars make your heart soar." 

"Yeah…"  With a start, he realized he had an opening.  "Did you see that falling star that came down a few weeks ago?  I was on the roof, er, stargazing, and I saw it soaring.  It was so beautiful!  I'd love to know more about it."

Windi gave him an odd look.  He cursed himself silently.  Had he overstepped?  Moved too early?

The music faded away, and the dancers broke apart, catching their breath, grinning and sweaty.  Windi separated from Davenport and shut off the gramophone.  "Class," she said, "take a seat.  I have an announcement to make."

Davenport sat down, the adrenaline high of the dance already wearing off. 

"Now, most of you have probably heard of the magnificent star that fell in Fairvale a few weeks ago," she said.  "Temple authorities have consulted the signs and pronounced it a good omen, a blessing given to us directly by Garl Glittergold himself.  Now I know that the attack on our good city has left us all heartbroken.  But I have no doubt that this blessing indicates that things will get better for us."  She smiled, spreading her hands wide.  "The darkness will be extinguished in the glittering light of Garl's love for us."

The others nodded, murmured their assent.  Cookie shouted "Heyoo!"

Windi nodded in turn.  "Now, some of you may have heard rumors that Garl's Blessing landed near here.  Some even say, it was on the grounds of this very humble studio."  She arched one eyebrow, and gave them all a wry smile.  "And some of you may have picked this studio, out of all the dance studios in town, for this very reason."

Brightly cleared his throat.  "Well, I…I just love Garl so much!  And if this studio has been blessed by him…"  He trailed off uncertainly.  But others nodded in affirmation.

If anything, Windi seemed amused by this.  "Look up," she said, pointing to the round skylight at the center of the curving roof.  The class looked up.  Davenport took a look at the ceiling.  He'd never noticed the clouds painted there, as faded and worn as the rest of the room.  But the skylight was clear and polished as a diamond.

"That skylight is where Garl's Blessing came down," she said, "passing through the glass without breaking it."  She pointed to the scuffed floorboards.  "It landed right on this floor--"

Cookie gasped, her fingers tightening on the bench so hard that Davenport thought the wood might crack.  "This studio is holy ground…" she said, staring at it with wide, dark eyes.

Windi blushed.  "Well, maybe not holy ground per se," she said.  "But if Garl has seen fit to bless my little studio with such a momentous gift, then I wish to honor him with something in return.  I've spoken with the temple Jewels, and we have decided to hold a special Starlight Celebration as part of the Candlenights Festival this year.  Garl's Blessing will be put on display, and some of you will have an opportunity to perform a dance I will be composing for the occasion.  Now, this is a momentous responsibility, so it will be volunteer only.  You are not required to participate in this public performance in order to still take classes here.  But if you wish to--"

Everyone in the class was already raising their hands, already shouting their enthusiastic consent. 

Davenport raised his hand in silence.  Of course he would participate.  It was his job.

Windi smiled at him.  "Davenport," she said, "if you're interested, I have a…special request for you."

He found heat crawling across his neck.  "I'm, uh, not the best dancer in class," he said.  "So, no solos."  He forced a smile.  A few of his fellow classmates laughed.

"Oh, I think you'll like this.  It's right in your wheelhouse."  She pointed to the skylight.  "I want my dance to reflect the movement and pattern of the stars themselves.  Since you've studied the night sky so much, perhaps I could lean on your expertise while I compose this dance?"

He blinked.  "I'd, uh…I'd be happy to."  And he was surprised to find he was telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, it's me again with another Davenport fic, surprising no one! This time our captain's on a little solo mission. I didn't necessarily intend to come back to my Emissary Davenport stuff, but here we are, I guess? Also this gave me a chance to explore some stuff that got left on the cutting room floor during Joker's Wild: ideas that didn't quite fit with the general arc of that story, but still kind of intrigued me. So, I hope you enjoy what I have in store!


	2. Chapter 2

The lesson was interrupted by the loud ringing of a Stone.  Davenport broke away from the dance with Cookie, hand going immediately to his pocket, but Cookie was already pulling out her own. 

She thumbed the Stone.  Immediately a chipper voice piped up.  "This is an All-Stone Bulletin.  Scouts have spotted an anomalous vehicle in the Everdeep Woods to the northeast of Fairvale.  All Justifiers are requested to report and remain on standby while outer patrol rings investigate.  Repeat, all Justifiers are requested to report in and remain on standby until a final determination can be made."

Ice crept down Davenport's spine.  That was where the Starblaster was parked!

She frowned.  "Aw, man."  But the frown immediately faded, and she gave Davenport an enthusiastic grin.  "Well, duty calls!"  She nodded to Windi and waved to the rest of the class, slipping out.

The music kept going, but nobody was dancing now.  The atmosphere had curdled like sour milk.  The others began muttering to each other, the fear in their voices unmistakable. 

Windi shut off the music.  "Everyone, remain calm," she said.  "Our defenders are doing everything they can to assess the situation."  Her smile was brittle.

Davenport cleared his throat.  "Uh, Windi, is it all right if I, uh, step outside?  I think I need, um, some fresh air."  Before she could reply, he slipped down the hallway and outside.  He pulled out his own Stone.  "Starblaster, come in!" he said in a low, urgent voice.

No answer.

"Starblaster, come in!" he said, voice rising.  He ducked into an alley to avoid being seen.  "Is anybody there?  Please respond!"

No answer.

A string of curses flowed through the back of his head.  He gritted his teeth, pulled out the amulet of teleportation, and smashed it against the brick wall of the dance hall.

There was a flash of light, and he landed hard on the ship's deck. 

Merle sat up from his deck chair, the movement sending a sun-tanning reflector clattering to the deck.  "Dav?  What's going on?"  He lifted up his sunglasses.

"Incoming patrol!" he said.  "Where is everyone?  Anyone off-ship?"  He was already hurrying inside.  Merle waddled after him, sunglasses slipping down his nose. 

"Eh, I'm pretty sure we're all on board?  Barry and Lup should be in the lab.  Taako--was he going foraging?  Or was that this morning?"

Davenport grabbed the helm's intercom unit.  "All hands report to the common room at once!" he practically shouted into the unit.  "Patrols incoming!"  With his other hand, he adjusted the scanner settings.  No lifeforms in the alert zone yet.  He broadened the range.  Behind him, his crew was already shouting, stumbling into the common room.

"Magnus Burnsides, reporting for duty!"  The human's booming baritone voice filled the room.

He glanced over his shoulder, counted heads.  _"Where's Taako?"_

"Napping, I think?" Lup offered.

"Are you sure?"

She shrugged.

He gritted his teeth.  "We have to take off, right now.  _Where is he?"_

Lup and Barry looked at each other.  "Uh…" began Barry.

Davenport swore.  "Find him right now!"

Lup turned on her heel and bolted to the back of the ship, towards Taako's room.  And nearly slammed into him as he came staggering up the hallway in a pink binicorn onesie, hair mussed and eyes bleary from sleep.

"Ugh, what's going on?" he grumbled.  "Taako's good in here!"

That was all Davenport needed to know.  He punched up the engine, and the ship began to rise from the forest clearing where it had been parked.  The ship jerked and shuddered as its camouflage of vines and branches fell away.

A proximity alert began to flash.  One of the screens showed a large patrol of armored gnomes, pointing and readying their bows and wands.

He punched the engine, and the Starblaster shot into the sky.

 

#

 

"Well.  Does anyone care to explain to me why nobody picked up my call?"

Davenport was seething at the kitchen table.  He looked around the table at his crew, letting his gaze fall on each and every one of them.

Taako sighed loudly.  "Merle," he said, "when you were last on Stone duty, did you set it to silent mode?"

Merle blinked.  "What?  It has a silent mode?"

"If it turns yellow, yeah.  That's what that means."

"What?  I thought yellow meant it was on!"

Davenport slapped his forehead.

"Well, it sounds like it was an accident," Lucretia offered.  "And nobody was hurt--"

"But the mission was compromised," he snapped.  "I tried to alert you all to an oncoming patrol and nobody picked up, and so I had to ripcord out of there sooner than I needed to."

"So now what?" asked Magnus.  "You can, like, go back in, right?"

"You don't even need to," said Taako.  "Look, you said the Light was at this dance studio, right?"

He took a deep breath, tried to collect himself.  "It did land there, yes.  I'm…not one hundred percent sure it's still there, but I strongly suspect that it is."

"So.  We don't need to take the delicate approach anymore, is what I'm saying.  We can just…fly overhead, drop in, and take it.  In, out.  No biggie.  I mean, sure the city is defended, but it's not defended from the _air._ "

Davenport frowned.  "If we do that, the city will panic."  And what would happen to Windi's studio, if she lost Garl's blessing?  Assuming his collateral-damage-heavy crew even bothered to leave it standing.

"That's their problem, not ours," said Taako.  "I mean, we are saving their entire world.  If they wanna freak their beans about it, that's, like, on them."

_"No."_   Davenport fixed him with a glare.  "We still have time to do this carefully.  I'm not going to throw them into needless chaos."

"Well, from a practical perspective," said Lup, "the Cloak of Concealment is still in there.  And we don’t have a second amulet of instant teleportation.  So, even if we snuck you in a second time, you won't have another ripcord if something goes bad."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

Merle hummed thoughtfully into his beard.  "Why don't we fly him in?"

Davenport sighed.  "Merle, even if we don’t attack them outright, the appearance of the ship will--"

"I ain't talkin' about the ship," he said.  He gestured to Taako.  "He said the city isn't defended from the air.  So just have Taako turn you into a bird or something!  You fly in at night as a sparrow or something, they'll never notice!"

"That's, uh, actually a pretty good idea," said Barry.

"You can be Cap'n Sparrow!" said Magnus.

Taako grimaced.  "Already been done, my friend.  But yeah, Taako can getcha in there."

Davenport sat back.  "It's a plan, then."  He brushed his hair out of his eyes.  The adrenaline was leaking out of his veins, leaving him exhausted.  Outside the portholes, dawn was breaking.  He hadn't slept all night; he'd been too busy flying the ship, trying to find a new safe place to park it.  "I'm going to get some sleep.  We'll depart after dark."

 

#

 

The Starblaster dozed in a sunny, fallow field several miles east of Fairvale.  It was a peaceful landscape, but sleep came fitfully as Davenport tossed and turned in his narrow bunk.  His dreams kept fading into strange nightmares of being trapped underground during an earthquake, of hurring down dark tunnels while something enormous and inexplicable dug through the rock after him.  He didn't know what it was, but he knew it wanted him dead.  It wanted everything dead, but him in particular.  There was a golden light inside him, and it hated that light. 

He burst out of the tunnel into the dance studio, and it followed.  It tore up the floorboards, broke the glass skylight and the sky-painted walls, and swallowed the Light.

Davenport woke, covered in sweat.  His head reeled.  For a moment he lay still in bed, feeling the room tremble around him, not sure if he was still dreaming it or not.

"Another minor seismic tremor," Barry told him, when he finally gave up on sleep and went to get some coffee.  It was the middle of the afternoon.  He felt like he'd hardly slept at all.  His whole body felt full to the brim with a nervous restlessness he couldn't shake.

Well, he might as well do something with the pent-up energy.  He dragged the gramophone out onto the deck and pulled out a record of uptempo dance songs.  He set the record in place and began to go through his steps, slipping comfortably into the pattern.  Left-back right-step left-front, left-back right-step left-front.

"Okay," he breathed.  "I got this.  I'm getting this."

He heard Garl laughing.  _See, dancing isn't so bad!  Want me to drop some divine beats?_

"Uh, no thank you, I'm good.  Just gotta….um…focus on the beats that are already there."  Left-back right-step left-front.

"Wow," came Merle's voice behind him.  "You are _really_ stiff!"  He clapped Davenport on the shoulder--not nearly as strong a blow as Cookie's, but enough to throw him off all the same.  "Ya gotta loosen up, buddy!  Like this!"  Merle danced past him, sliding and bending in his interpretive jazz dance routine, completely off-beat to the music.  As if he were dancing to a completely different song that only he could hear.

Davenport frowned and looked away, focusing on the beat that was actually playing.  What did Windi say?  Just to let it flow, to think of dancing like speaking about the stars.  But the sun was high, and the stars were hidden behind its glare.  He didn't feel limitless.  He felt nervous and off-balance and irritated.

"Oh hey, is there a dance party going on?" came Taako's voice.  "Because I am all in on this!"  And he started shimmying across the deck, singing the lyrics to the Thong Song.

Before Davenport could protest, Lup was pulling Barry into an energetic swing dance across the deck.  Lup's shoes clacked loudly along with Barry's heavy steps, in tune to the song but their lead beats landing differently than Davenport's.  He tried to regain his rhythm but bumped against Merle, who bumped him back with his hip.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucretia furiously sketching the unfolding scene before Magnus grabbed her with a joyful whoop and dragged her into the dance. 

"Wait, hold on--" he began, his voice swallowed by the music and the shouts and the thump of shoes hitting the deck.

Magnus swung Lucretia around clumsily, and Davenport had to duck to avoid getting accidentally kicked in the head.  "I'm trying to practice here!" he snapped.

_"Baby move your butt, butt, butt!"_ Taako sang, bumping up against Lup, who shot off a shower of sparks while cackling madly.  The sparks nearly hit Merle, who staggered back and stepped on Davenport's tail.  And then Magnus grabbed him by the hands and swung him around and set him down again, and he staggered, reeling, and the deck was shaking and for a moment he didn't know if it was the dancing or an earthquake or his nightmare swallowing him again.

He threw a pair of daggers at the gramophone.  The music came to a sudden, explosive halt.

Everyone stopped to look at him.  He stood gasping in the middle of the deck, as smoke and sparks sputtered out of the gramophone.

He turned on his heel.  "I am _trying_ to practice!  This isn't a dance party, it's a Light retrieval mission and you're all--you're throwing me off!"

The crew all stared.  Lucretia's shoulders hunched and her cheeks blushed furiously.  Lup cocked her eyebrow and Magnus sagged where he stood, mumbling an apology.

Merle just shrugged.  "What's the point of dancin' if you aren't having fun?"

"This isn't about fun, Merle!" he snapped.  "It's--it's about duty!  It's about doing my job!"

Merle looked like he wanted to protest, but Davenport turned away and stormed back to the helm door.  "I'll be in my quarters," he growled.  "And I'm not to be disturbed for anything short of the ship being on fire."

"What if it's just Barry's ass that's on fire?" asked Lup.  "Because you've got some _moves,_ babe!"

The joke broke through the tension, and the rest of the crew chuckled while Barry turned red.  Davenport frowned.  "I'm not repeating myself," he said.

_Wow,_ said Arumdina.  _Temperamental AND a stuck-up jerk.  What a great emissary you are!  Garl really pranked himself good when he chose you._

"Nobody asked you!" he snarled, and slammed the door shut behind him.

 

#

 

He didn't stay in his berth for very long.  The mirror over his dresser reflected back to him a person he didn't want to see right now.  A short-fused captain who yelled at his crew over petty nonsense, who snapped and stormed and sulked like a toddler.

So he slipped into one of the service vents instead, and burrowed into the small pile of blankets he kept there.  He let himself sink into the dark solitude, letting his mind unclench, breathing deep until his heart stopped racing.  Until he could get his pesky emotions under control.

He must have drifted off, because he woke to the smell of sautéeing onions drifting up through the vents.  He rubbed his face.  At least no nightmares this time.

The smell of cooking was accompanied by the soft murmur of the twins' voices.  He'd long ago chosen this spot in the vents because the smells and sounds of the kitchen helped him keep his thumb on the pulse of the ship.  It let him know what time it was, what general mood to expect.  The kitchen was the Starblaster's heart.

Magnus's voice joined the twins.  A chair scraped along the floor, and soon the heavy thunk of a knife against a cutting board joined the rest of the sounds.  He'd gone in to hang out with the twins and, as usual, they'd put him to work.  Lup asked a question in a gentle voice; Magnus replied with a sigh and a "Yeah, I'm okay…" in a tone that suggested there was definitely something on his mind.  He was keeping his voice low, which for Magnus meant a normal indoor voice.

Davenport slid silently down the vent to get a little closer.

"…not your fault, dude," came Taako's voice.  "Cap'n's just in a mood."

"Yeah," Lup added, "you know how he gets when he feels like a mission's going poorly."

Davenport sighed.  He was that transparent, wasn't he?

"I know, I know," said Magnus.  "I just…I worry about him, ya know?  Like sometimes, I think…I think he has an imaginary friend."

Lup laughed.  "What?"

"You know!  You ever catch him when he thinks he's alone and he just seems to be talking to no one?  It could be, like, a comfort thing."

"I always assumed he was talking to the ship, man," Taako drawled.  There was a clatter of metal as another pot was set on the stove.  "Like, probably one of the early cycles, he was left alone with it for too long and he went all Fantasy Castaway, and started talking to it like it's a person."

Lup snorted.  "Yeah, one day we'll stumble on a secret part of the ship and there'll be a face drawn on the wall somewhere."

_Garl's your imaginary friend,_ _now?_ said Arumdina suddenly.  _You've been Garl's emissary for how many decades, and you still haven't told your closest family?  Oh, and now you're an eavesdropper, too,_ she added.  _Even better._

He opened his mouth to snap something back at her, but remembered to shut it again before he could give away his position.  _It's personal, okay?_ he shot back.  _Besides, I'm the captain and the kitchen is a public space.  I need to know what's going on with my crew.  And you can't tell me that Garl Glittergold, Lord of Pranks, has never eavesdropped on anyone._

_And he does it for pranks!_ she shot back with equal acid. _You're doing it so you can find out how badly you messed up with your crew, without actually having to talk to them about it like a grown-up.  You're no captain, hiding in the dark like that.  You're just a coward._

He frowned.  _All right, you want me to talk about feelings?  What's your problem, then?  I've met dozens of Arumdinas on dozens of planes and they've never had a problem with me!  But you've treated me with nothing but contempt from the moment I arrived!  Not Garl, just you.  Please, explain to me how I messed up so badly with you.  At least give me a chance to fix it._

_Of course Garl loves you,_ she said, and her tone was almost spiteful. _He will always love you.  But I don't have to._

_That doesn’t answer the question._

There was a long pause before she spoke again.  _Look, you wanna get the Light and save the world?  Fine, excellent!  Do that.  I appreciate not getting eaten by a cosmic space horror.  But there is a rot at the heart of Fairvale, and you didn't even notice.  You were in there for two weeks and you didn't bother to look, to really LOOK.  You just kept your head down and stayed in your lane._

_I'm trying to keep a low profile,_ he said, struggling to keep his mental tone even. _I don't want to draw needless attention._

_Yeah, that's everyone's excuse.  But you're supposed to be clever, you're supposed to be brave.  Figure it out, emissary!  We need Garl's voice in this world.  But you?  A closed-off, self-important, single-minded, short-fused alien from another dimension?  You’re the last person we need right now._

And then her voice was gone, and Davenport was alone in the dark.

 

#

 

"Good luck, Cap'nport," said Magnus, giving him a cheerful salute.

Davenport glanced at him as the ship hovered, silent and distant above Fairvale.  The ship was running on stealth mode, most of its lights off, but he could clearly see the smile on Magnus's face.  As if he hadn't scolded him and the entire crew not a few hours ago.

He really should apologize.  To all of them.  They might let it roll off as him blowing off steam, but he still acted badly.  They deserve better.  He took a deep breath.

"You ready to go, Cap?" asked Taako. 

"Oh.  Right."  He grimaced.  Switching gears, he gave the rest of the crew a quick salute.  There would be time enough for apologies later.  "I'm ready."

The sky overhead stretched as he grew small and light.  Taako had polymorphed him into a swallow:  small enough to be relatively undetected, big enough to carry the Stone of Farspeech in his talons.  He hopped a few times, testing out his wings.  Satisfied, he picked up the Stone and dropped off the side of the ship. 

The sky pulled his breath away. 

The stars glimmered overhead, and Fairvale glittered like a second night sky, its streetlights and windows making strange patterns of colored lights.  He circled lower and lower, reveling in the brisk night air against his wings, in the sheer joy of flight.  He banked against the wind, drifting weightless between sky and earth, every nerve in his body alight.

Soon he spotted the roof of his apartment building, and dropped down into an awkward landing.  The sweet thrill of flight faded, and for a moment he stared back up at the sky, debating the merits of one more quick flight.  He sighed, shoved the feeling aside, and pecked at the stone.

"You down, Cap?"

He tweeted three times, the signal for a good landing.

Taako dismissed the spell remotely.  His body shifted, growing large and heavy again.  He sat down hard on the flat roof, a little breath escaping him as gravity dug its hooks back in.  Well, back to business.  "Thanks, Taako," he said, digging his key out of his pocket and unlocking the service hatch that would lead him back inside.  "I'm in." 

"Confirmed," said Taako.  "Good luck, Cap."

He glanced up one final time at the sky, but the Starblaster was long gone.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a calm late-summer evening, and Fairvale's central plaza was crowded with gnomes.  They mingled beneath the stars, chatting and drinking, or promenading past merchant stalls hung with glowing lights.  In one corner of the broad stone plaza, a troupe of bards had struck up a sprightly tune, and a few dozen people were having an impromptu dance party.  Davenport recognized a few classmates, waved to them, and moved on.

"Heyooooo, Davenport!" Cookie whooped.  He waved to her, too.  She was standing with a cluster of other armed gnomes, all of them in golden armor, all carrying axes of one form or another.  The Justifiers.  She was easily the most cheerful among them.  The rest ranged from serious to surly, as they watched over the gathered crowd.  He hurried on.  The last thing he needed was undue attention by the city's security forces.  He still wasn't sure if any of them had gotten a good look at his face when he'd first approached the city with Merle.

He bought a mug of cider and sat down on a low wall at the edge of the plaza, where it was slightly quieter, and where he had a good view of the crowd.  It was the first time he'd lingered in public like this since he'd arrived; Arumdina had been right that he had been ignoring the community right under his nose.  Ever since he'd narrowed down his search for the Light to Windi's dance studio, his daily routine had compressed to the studio and his rented room, with occasional brief trips to the market for food.

He watched the crowd in silence.  They seemed cheerful enough.  But the presence of the Justifiers and the sight of the armed guards walking the parapets of the distant walls exerted a certain pressure in the air.  Couples would occasionally pause in their strolling to glance up at the walls, before squeezing each other's hands and moving on.  Groups of chatting gnomes would plaster big grins on their faces whenever the Justifiers passed by.  There was a strained quality to the voices he heard, a desperate frenzy to the dancing. 

He frowned into his cider.  The whole crowd was as tense as a clenched muscle.

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye.  Instinctively he whipped around, flicking out a knife from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand.  A gnome in black leather had one hand clasped around Davenport's coin purse, the other cutting through the cord with a dagger.  Their eyes locked.

The thief was thrown back suddenly as a gauntleted fist crashed into his cheek. 

"Heyoo!" Cookie bellowed.  _"Thief!"_

The thief in question tumbled back, flinging his arms over his face.  "What the--"

But Cookie was already on top of him, all of her armored bulk crashing down on his smaller frame.  She punched him a second time, right in the face.  "Hey Davenport, are you okay?" she asked cheerfully, between punches.

He was already on his feet.  "Yeah, I'm--Cookie, I think you got him already!"

She looked down at the bloodied face of the now-unconscious thief.  "Oh.  Huh."  She grinned.  "Guess I did, huh?" 

The other Justifiers had already caught up.  Cookie picked up Davenport's fallen purse and tossed it at him. 

"What just happened?" said another Justifier, a man with a trim beard and a fierce, hard voice.  A gold badge shone prominently on one shoulder guard.

"Just stopping a robbery in progress."  She looked over the thief, and frowned.  "What the…?"  She reached into his black leather vest, and pulled out a strange weapon.  It was a leather glove mounted with four long steel tines, like claws.

The lead Justifier stared.  A few others behind him gasped. 

Cookie's frown deepened.  "Urdlen scum," she growled, and spat on the thief.

Davenport's jaw dropped.  He knew that name.  Every gnome in his warren had known that name since they were babes.  The one truly evil god in the gnome pantheon, a being of mindless destruction and bloodlust, who sought nothing but the end of all life.  "The Crawler Below," he said, throat dry.

A woman passing by heard his words, and dropped her tankard of ale with a frightened squeak.  Others turned to look.  Frightened mutters spread out from the corner of the plaza like ripples in a pool.

Cookie's jaw clenched.  She slapped the thief once more, sharply across the face.

"Take him back to HQ," said the man with the badge.  "We'll have him questioned when he revives.  The rest of you, crowd control.  The last thing we need is a panic breaking out." 

Cookie nodded, hauling the thief to his feet and throwing him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The leader turned to Davenport, eyes narrowed.  "Are you all right, citizen?" he asked.

Davenport nodded.  "I am.  Thank you." 

"Have you seen this gnome before?"

He glanced at the thief.  He'd never seen an Urdlen cultist before.  Somehow he thought one would be more…obvious.  "No," he said. 

"Are you certain?"

Davenport frowned.  "I'm pretty certain I've never seen this gnome before," he said.

The leader regarded Davenport, as if he were hiding something.  As if he might somehow be equally complicit in his own robbery.  Davenport wondered if this man had seen him from the parapets.  Or if he was doing something wrong, missing some important social cue and, in doing so, marking himself as an outsider.  Was he supposed to be heyoo-ing?

"Captain, I'll take this one," said one of the Justifiers, stepping forward.  The face plate of their helmet was down, and he couldn't see their face.

"Carry on, then," said the leader, with a curt nod.  He turned and led the other Justifiers away.

The one who stayed behind caught him by the elbow and pulled him aside.  "Come with me," they said, their voice muffled from beneath their helmet. 

"Excuse me?"

"Questioning," they said. 

Davenport bit his lip, but followed.  This Justifier, like the others, was wearing golden armor, unremarkable except for one little detail.  Instead of them carrying an axe, two sharp, shallow axe blades curved outward from their arm greaves. 

The Justifier led him down a quieter side street, to a table outside a darkened café.  They plunked him firmly in one seat, and sat down across from him, and removed their helmet.

Sitting across from him was a gnome woman with short-cropped brown hair, the color of polished oak.  She set her helmet firmly on the table and glared at him.  "Now do you get it?" she asked.

Davenport's eyes widened.  _"Arumdina?"_   Now that her helmet was off, the voice was unmistakable.   "I--I didn't know you could do…um, this."

Her glare only narrowed.  "We'll just add that to the list of things you don't know about me," she said. 

He looked up and down the street.  "Where's Garl, then?  Shouldn't you be at his side?" 

"Technically I am," she said.  "Time works differently on the Celestial planes.  And he's got his hands full, obviously.  There's an Urdlen cult running around, and that's never good."  She leaned her head on one hand and looked away, watching the gnomes pass by on the street.  "When the northlanders attacked Fairvale, they didn't get in on their own.  They had help from the inside.  A pack of Urdlenites let them in."  She spat on the cobbles.  "So you can see why the people here are a bit on edge."

He frowned.  "So they're not just afraid of outsiders.  They're afraid of an inside threat, too."

Her eyes closed.  She nodded.  "Anyone could be a traitor.  Anyone could be the next one to open the gates, to misdirect the patrols.  To strike at the very heart of Garl's people."

"Is that why you don't trust me?"

She sat up, regarded him coolly.  Her eyes were golden, and they glowed softly in the moonlight.

"I'm Garl's emissary," he said.  "I know we don't know each other very well, but believe me, I would never do anything to put this city in danger--"

"That's what the last emissary said," she said sharply.  "And the moment things turned bad, he folded like a house of cards!"  She leaned across the table.  "Garl asked him to defend this city and he ran like a coward instead."

Davenport blinked.  "I…"

"And then you show up out of the blue, a new emissary he's literally never seen before?" she scoffed.  "He loves you, because of course he does!  But he can't predict what an emissary will do.  He can't _make_ you be your best selves.  Your souls are like puzzle-boxes to him.  He can see the general shape they make, nudge them in different directions, let them open up piece by piece.  But sometimes, what's on the inside is so much less than he'd hoped.  And sometimes the insides are just _rotten_."

He bit his lip.  Her words cut deeper than he'd expected, validating every time he'd ever suspected he was a disappointment to Garl.  That he was so much less than Garl had hoped.

But he was still the captain of the Mission.  He still had a job to do, and was obligated to try his best to complete it.  "I'm not going to run," he said.  "I came back, didn't I?  I'm going to retrieve the Light and save this world.  If you don't trust my words, at least trust my actions."

She shrugged.  "I guess time will show us who you are," she said.  She took his right hand with a firm grip, turned it over so his palm was showing.  With her other hand, she brought down her bladed greave, slicing a line through his palm.  He hissed as blood welled from the shallow wound.  She brought up his hand and kissed it, and the wound sealed shut.  Only a golden scar showed where she had cut.

"The Blessing of Arumdina," she said.  "If you stand firm against Garl's enemies, may your blades strike true and cut deep."  She smirked.  "But mine is a double-edged blessing.  If you choose the same path as the last emissary, if you turn your back on Garl and his people, if you _break Garl's heart_ , then you will meet the exact same fate as your predecessor.  I _will_ call the Justifiers down on you."  Her eyes narrowed, and she pinned Davenport to his seat with her gaze.  "And I will not stop Cookie when she cuts you in twain."

 

#

 

"What's up, partner?" Cookie asked, as they slowly went through the basic steps of a whopper twist.  "You look like you're sucking on a sour candy."

Davenport cleared his throat.  "It's, uh, nothing," he said. 

She tilted her head.  "It's that cultist who attacked you, isn't it?  You're worried.  I can tell."

"Y-yeah.  The cultist.  I mean," and he forced a smile, "you'll probably tell me not to worry.  That the Justifiers keep our city safe, and we--we don't need to worry."

But Cookie didn't smile back, for once.  "Oh, you should definitely worry," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  "The Urdlenites aren't messing around."  She pulled him in close for the next part of the dance; her grip was tight on his arms.  "They do blood sacrifices, you know.  And blood frenzies.  And blood rituals.  Just…lots of blood.  All the time."

"I--I see…"

"They move in shadow and under the earth," she went on, her gaze locked on something in the distance.  "They'll prey on anyone.  Children, babies, the weak.  Full-grown adults walking by themselves at night."  Her gaze snapped back to him.  "Do you sleep well at night, Davenport?"

He blinked.  He'd thought Cookie's cheerful enthusiasm was overwhelming, but this startling intensity was on a whole other level.  "Uh…not typically, no?"

She grinned.  "Oh, good!  Constant vigilance is the only way we'll protect ourselves.  Every extra pair of eyes, on the lookout for anything suspicious, helps the Justifiers do our jobs."  She broke from the basic step and flung him away from her on the tether of her outstretched arm, then reeled him back in again, holding him close.  He could feel the muscles of her arms against the small of his back.  "If you're tempted to be complacent, to drift off in peaceful dreams, just think of them slipping silently through your window and dragging you into the dark, to cut you open on one of their dark altars as a sacrifice to Urdlen."

He felt like his breath was being squeezed from his lungs.  He pulled away slightly, tried to breathe, tried to get himself back into the basic step.  "I'll, uh, remember that."

Her old enthusiastic grin returned.  "I knew I could count on you, partner!"

Windi rapped her baton against the floor as the music wound down.  Davenport broke away from Cookie, trying to conceal a deep sigh of relief. 

"All right, class," she said.  "That was very good.  Now we're going to try again, a bit faster this time--"

Davenport winced as a flash of nausea ran through him.  The floor began to shake.  Before he could react, or cry out a warning, the floorboards cracked and collapsed beneath him, and he fell down in a dark thundrous rush of dirt and rocks and splintered wood.  He landed hard in a cold stone tunnel, the force of the impact knocking the last of the breath from his lungs.

He pushed himself upright, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  He looked up, but no light was coming from the hole he had just fallen through.  He was alone.

The stone in front of him buckled as steel scythes tore through it like knives through butter.  A massive pale body heaved itself upward into the tunnel, screeching so loudly he thought his eardrums would burst.  He scrambled backwards, hands over his ears.  He realized with horror that the scythes were the creature's claws.

A giant, albino mole turned its wrinkled face towards him.  Its incisors were blades of yellowed ivory tipped in blood, and its tiny eyes were hidden behind folds of flesh.

Davenport's skin crawled.  The power radiating off this creature repulsed him as if they were mis-oriented magnets.  He knew instantly what it was, just as he knew he was not meant to be here.

Urdlen opened its milk-white eyes and looked at him.

Urdlen was blind.  It couldn't see his physical body.  But it sensed him there, knew where he was and what he was.  It sensed the golden light stamped onto his very soul.  Garl's light.

It opened its mouth and screamed. 

Light streamed suddenly down from above him.  Garl landed in the tunnel like a shimmering meteorite, feet planted, standing between Davenport and Urdlen.  Arumdina glowed in his hands, her golden double-headed blades sharp enough to cut air.  He glanced over his shoulder at Davenport and frowned.  He extended a hand towards his emissary.

Davenport felt a sudden push, painless but firm, and he hit the floor of the dance studio with a gasp.  His head reeled.  He opened his eyes and saw afternoon sunlight streaming through the skylight, framed by the peaceful pale blue of the ceiling's painted sky.

"Davenport!  Are you okay?"  Windi leaned over him, her face clouded with worry.  The rest of the class was all standing around him.  Someone--Brightly, he realized--was holding his wrist, checking his pulse.

He groaned.  "Wha--what just happened?"

"There was a tremor," said Torque.  "And you fainted!"

He rubbed his forehead.  "I did?" 

"How are you feeling now?" asked Windi.

The floorboards were intact beneath him.  There was no sign of his tumble down into the tunnel.  He sat up, and nearly fainted again as the room seemed to spin.  "Nobody saw that?  Down in the dark--"

Cookie's face pinched in a frown.  "You saw something?"  She elbowed her way past the others and stood like a tower over him.  "What did you see?"

"I saw…"  He noticed her fists clenched tightly at her sides.  He remembered the way she'd launched herself at the thief, the way she'd spat on him and flung about his unconscious body.  "Just darkness," he said, weakly forcing a smile.  "It, uh, happens sometimes.  Medical condition, you know?  I get just a little off-balance, and the blood rushes to my head and my vision goes dark and I faint.  Probably the, uh, the floor shaking messed me up.  Set off my, uh, medical condition."

Cookie's eyes narrowed.  But then she laughed, and reached out a hand to help him up.  "Haha!  Of course, partner!"  She pulled him up to his feet.  "I'm just glad to have you back!  I was really worried for a minute, there!"  She gripped his shoulder with a hand like an iron vise.  "Because if you _did_ have something to do with the tremor, if you had anything at all to do with the Urdlenites, I would _definitely_ have to beat you to a pulp and drag you in for questioning!"  She laughed, as if she'd just told a hilarious joke. 

"You, heheh, certainly would," he said, keeping a smile plastered to his face.  "I would definitely be done for, if that were the case!  Not that it is, of course!"

"Of course not, partner!" 

Windi cleared her throat.  She glanced between the two of them if she wasn't quite sure what was going on.  Frankly, neither did Davenport.  "Well, then.  I suppose it would probably be for the best if we dismissed the class for the rest of the afternoon.  I'm sure some of you will be wanting to go home to check for damage.  And Davenport, it might be good if you get some rest.  Because of your medical condition."

He cleared his throat, and nodded.  "Uh, probably for the best," he said.  He nodded his regards to the others and slipped away before Cookie could make anything more awkward.

The streets outside were packed with gnomes checking in on each other, talking about the tremor.  Worry hung in the air like a dense fog.  And Urdlen's shadow lingered in the back of his head, all hatred and hunger and claws like scythes, sharpened for harvest.

He tried to remind himself that it was just a vision, that Urdlen wasn't really here.  But he knew it wasn't just a vision.  He had no doubt that Urdlen had sensed him, down in the dark.

 

#

 

The moment he returned to his room, he pulled out the Stone of Farspeech.  "Starblaster?  Come in!"

"This is Lup.  What's up, Cap?"

He threw open the curtains and looked down at the still-busy streets.  "Hey, those seismic readings you and Barry were tracking…could you set your scanners to focus on the most active areas and scan for, uh, I guess demonic energy?"

"Demonic?"

"Yeah, like…celestial but evil?"

"I know what demonic is, Cap," she said.  "You got some info for us?"

He bit his lip.  "This is gonna sound strange…"

Lup laughed.  "So, like, any other day on the Starblaster, right?"

He swallowed.  It felt like there was a knot in his throat.  But he just needed to push through this.  "There's, um, an evil god in the gnome pantheon, named Urdlen.  And the locals have been, uh, I guess attributing the tremors to him?  Now I don't know how much stock we can put in this, but it might help to at least look into the possibility."

There was a pause.  "An evil gnome god is causing the earthquakes?"

"Uh, that's the, uh, prevailing belief, yes."

"Okay, well…interesting theory.  Do they have a reason why this evil god would want to hop into the prime material plane to jack up their city?"

"Well, Urdlen is just a force of bloodlust and destruction.  Supposedly."

"Supposedly?"

He glanced around the room.  "Uh, I've been doing research.  In books, and things.  Just…just reading some books."  He opened up the nightstand, where—just like nightstands in every gnomish inn—there was a Holy Book of Garl.  He picked it up and rattled the pages.  "Like in this book I'm reading right now.  About this evil gnome god, Urdlen.  Apparently he's a giant albino mole with, uh, huge steel claws?"

"Sounds pretty metal."

He winced.  "Y-yeah…Anyway, if you could scan for the sort of power that might be radiating from a divine being of pure chaos and evil, that might…that might help."

"Roger that, Cap!"

"And just…"  He took a deep breath, tried to steady his racing heart.  "Lup, could you make sure that the ship is on stand-by?  Call it, uh, intuition, but I'm concerned that something big is going to happen soon."

 "Big, like what?"

He glanced down at the book in his hands.  Like every Holy Book of Garl, it was a collection of jokes and classic pranks.  And, at the moment, it felt woefully inadequate in the face of the Crawler Below.

"I don't know," he said.  "But it's not gonna be good."

 

#

 

He couldn’t stay in his room.  Maybe it was the tension in the air, or maybe it was a nudge from Garl, but his feet wouldn't keep still and he found himself pacing through the streets of Fairvale.  The tremor wasn't severe, and most of the damage was to fallen ceramics and cracked windows.  But the tremor had rattled more than just furniture.  As he walked, he heard people whispering together in huddled knots, or shouting at each other.  He heard children crying. 

As the sun set behind the wall and twilight settled on the city, he found himself wandering back to Windi's studio.  Windi was locking up the front door.  She turned and saw him, and smiled.  "Davenport, hello!"

"Oh!  Um, hello, Windi."  He looked around.  At least this part of town seemed quiet.  But his nerves were on fire, and he didn't know why.  "I hope nothing was damaged in the studio…"

She shook her head.  "Nothing a little elbow grease and a few mending spells can't fix," she said.  "The old place was built on a sturdy foundation."  She patted its stone wall with affection.

"I'm, uh, glad to hear that."  He stood in the little courtyard, shifting from foot to foot.

She gave him a thoughtful look.  "Are you feeling better?  You still look a little pale--"

"No, no, I'm fine," he said.  "In fact, I came here because I was, well, I took a nap and felt better and then I thought, why not pop by to the studio and practice a bit more?  I mean, if the studio's still open.  I could, uh, put on the gramophone and go through my steps.  You won't even know I'm there." 

She was silent, frowning a little.  She seemed, oddly, disappointed.

"You know what," he said quickly, "I can see you're locking up for the evening.  So never mind, I'll just come back tomorrow--"

"Davenport."  She smoothed her skirts and gave him a brisk smile.  "Can we talk?"  She sat down on the front stoop and patted the spot next to her.

He sat down beside her, wordlessly. 

She took a deep breath, her hands folded loosely in her lap.  "Why did you want to start dancing, Davenport?" she asked.

He cleared his throat.  "Well, you know…I guess I wanted to, uh, have some more fun during Communion days?  Because, you know, Garl.  Um.  He's pretty amazing and I think, uh, he'd want me to be happy, you know?"  He gave her a big grin.

She sighed.  "Why did you really come here, Davenport?  Be honest with me.  Please."

His grin faded.  He looked away.  "Windi, I…"  He covered his mouth with one hand.  What could he even say to her?  That he was an alien who came to take Garl's Blessing away from her? 

"It's okay, Davenport," she said, more gently still.  "I've been in this business long enough.  I've seen people like you before."

A bitter laugh escaped him.  "I, uh, kind of doubt you've met anyone like me before."

She shook her head.  "You didn't come here because you wanted to dance, did you?  You came here because you felt it was your duty."

He felt heat prickle the back of his neck.  He opened his mouth, closed it again.

She sighed again, and brushed a white curl behind her ear.  "You know," she said, "when I first started to dance, I thought it was the most wonderful feeling ever.  And when I took over running the studio from my mother, I wanted nothing more than to share that feeling with everyone who passed through its doors.  The joy of movement, the camaraderie and trust, that feeling like you're flying.  I just…could not understand why anyone _wouldn't_ want to dance."  She looked away.  "But every once in a while, I had a student who was just…there.  Forcing themselves through the motions, a desperate smile plastered onto their face whenever they thought someone was looking at them.  Dancing not because they wanted to, or because they were curious to give it a try, but because they felt they had to."

Davenport took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  "Well," he said, "you're not wrong."

"Listen," she said, laying one hand over his.  "I'm telling you this not because you're in trouble, Davenport.  I just want you to know you're not alone!  You're not even the only one in this class."

He blinked.  He opened his mouth to ask who, but then he realized, like a light bulb going off.  "Brightly," he said.  Brightly with his too-wide smile, his almost desperate insistance of his devotion. 

She smiled sadly.  "He's actually one of the quietest, most serious gnomes I've ever met.  But people thought he was strange, that he was…un-gnomish.  So he took classes for a year, hoping to take his dancing to the next level, which was any level at all.  He was just about to give up when Garl's Blessing came down.  So he signed up for another year of courses, taking it as a personal sign from Garl that he needed to keep going."

Davenport felt the breath leave him.  "Yeah, that's…I know that feeling."  He knew that feeling all too well.  It had hounded him like a shadow in his youth.  The pressure to conform, the awful choice between false community or honest loneliness.

"Everyone's so afraid," she said, her voice low and thick with sorrow.  "Especially nowadays.  Everyone's so…so _paranoid_ , nobody wants to stick out, even a little.  So people dance because they're afraid _not to_.  And it breaks my heart.  Dancing should be a joy, not a duty."

He closed his eyes.  "You know," he said, "I really wish it could be."  He ran his fingers through his hair.  "When I was young, all I wanted was freedom.  Freedom from the duty of pretending to have fun.  Freedom to be as serious and quiet as I wanted to be.  But now?  Now there's a part of me that sometimes wishes I _could_ just have fun.  Just…throw it all away and laugh and relax without a care in the world!"  He flicked out his fingers, as if he could catch the stars glimmering into view overhead.  "But even if I could, even if it was safe for me to do so, I'm--I don't even know how to _begin_.  Like that part of me that could do that is just _gone."_  

He blinked, tried swallowing the knot in his throat.  He let his empty hands drop onto his knees, having caught nothing.  "But I can't, so I guess it doesn't matter.  I've just swapped one duty for another."

"Davenport, I…"  Windi sighed.  "I would love nothing more than for you to keep coming to my classes.  But I hope that you do so because you _want_ to.  Not because anything or anyone is forcing you to come."

He shifted, turning to face her.  Impulsively, he took her hands.  "Windi, listen.  You're right.  I came here out of a sense of duty, but not for the reason you think.  I'm--"  What, an alien?  She'd panic for sure.  And he wouldn't blame her.  "I'm here because of Garl.  He--he sent me to retrieve the Blessing.  And I know this is going to sound hard to believe, but if I don't retrieve it, something really, _really_ bad is going to happen."

She leaned back, eyes widening.  He hurried on.  "I didn't say anything before because I knew how much Garl's Blessing meant to you, and to the city.  It--it saved your studio, didn't it?"

Her mouth was a thin, straight line.  He could feel her hands shaking.

"You treated a class of twenty students as a remarkable influx.  This place was falling apart but you've just begun repairing it.  It's because Garl's Blessing was a windfall, wasn't it?"

Her smile was small and rueful.  "The temple began speaking of it as a holy place.  People started making donations.  What else could I do, but count my blessings and try to make it a place worthy of Garl Glittergold?"

And now he was going to take that away.  The place would be left worse off than it had been before, because now it was a place that had had Garl's Blessing, and lost it again.  But he'd been through these cycles long enough to know that every day the Light remained outside of the Starblaster, it was at greater risk of slipping through his fingers again.  "I'm sorry for deceiving you," he said.  "I'm sorry for needing to take away something that means so much to you.  I know I don't have any proof, I'm just asking you-- _begging_ you--to trust me."

Windi was silent for a long moment.  She looked at their clasped hands.

"What is Garl like?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

She looked straight at him, her blue eyes glimmering in the light of the street lanterns.  "Tell me, what is Garl like?"

He sat back, feeling once more like the wind had been knocked out of him by her words.  "He's…he's inexplicable, really," he said.  "He's…warm, and fierce, and silly, and I've been working for him for decades and he still confuses me.  I mean, he picked _me_ , the least funny gnome in my warren, to be his emissary and I don't even know _why._ "  It was so strange, still, that he could share this secret with someone he wouldn't see again a year from now, and yet he still couldn't tell his own family.

She nodded.  Slipping her hands from his, she got to her feet and pulled out her keys.  "Come inside, Davenport," she said.  "I'll give you the Blessing, and you can do with it as Garl wills."

He blinked.  "You…believe me?"

She laughed.  "It's terribly obvious when you're lying," she said, unlocking the door.  "You'd have been babbling phrases out of old tales, trying to describe Garl.  But you talk about him like he's someone you know very well."

"I don't feel like I know him well at all," he said, following her inside.

"Sometimes love is like that," she said.  "You know it's there, even if you don't know why."

Before he could reply, she smiled over her shoulder at him.  "I keep the Blessing in a safe in one of the storage rooms."  She led him down a side hallway.  "This way."

He ran his fingers through his hair again.  "Shit, what about the Starlight Festival?"

She shrugged.  "I don't think the temple is going to begrudge an emissary of Garl retrieving the Blessing, especially if I vouch for you.  And if they're really concerned about putting on a good show, they can always illusion something suitably impressive.  Here we are!"  She stopped in front of a thick wooden door, and pushed an old iron key into the lock.  "It's a little dusty and messy in here," she said.  "I won't be long."  And she slipped inside, into what appeared to be a disused studio cluttered high with old chairs and benches and boxes.

Davenport leaned against the wall, debating whether to follow her in.  He took a step towards the door and doubled over as an ear-splitting shriek tore through him.  He stumbled hard against the wall as the floor began to rumble.  He wasn't sure if it was a vision or actually happening or if the difference really mattered, Urdlen was _here_ , his claws tearing through the earth, following the scent of blood.  The whole building shook so much he thought it was going to come down on top of him.

The rumbling stopped.  He gasped, sucking breath into his lungs as the roaring in his ears faded.  But the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't go away.  It beat at his brain and his heart and his soul, a feeling of absolute _wrongness._

From the darkened storage room, Windi was screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for violence. Nothing too graphic, pretty much canon-typical levels of violence, but it's still there and it's pretty bloody.

Davenport rushed into the storage room and paused, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.  Windi sat leaning against an old desk, her face pale, one leg twisted in an unnatural direction.  She was staring at a bizarre, cobbled-together vehicle that hunched in the center of the room, vaguely mole-shaped, with a drill for a nose.  The floor was torn up around it, as if it had just burst up through the boards.  Three gnomes moved around it, noisily tossing chairs aside and rooting through old boxes.  He ducked behind the desk before they could spot him.

"Stop it!" Windi cried.  "There's nothing here for you--just old furniture, I swear!"

"Shut your yapping," snapped one of the other gnomes, as pale as a cave fish, with scars running across his bald head.  "Or we break the other leg!"

Davenport reached into his pocket, and set his Stone to silent.  What he wouldn't give for a Cloak of Concealment right now. 

"I think I got something!" said another gnome, with coal-black hair and an eyepatch fashioned from a mouse skull.  He was struggling to pull a massive antique chest out from under a pile of chairs that had been toppled over by the drill.  "Unh--help me out with this!"

The pale gnome and their third companion, a gaunt gnome with scars like claw marks across her face and a mad grin like a scarecrow, scrambled over to him and started pushing chairs aside and yanking at the chest.  Slowly it came free, its weight scraping loudly across the dusty tiles.

Davenport slipped closer to Windi, getting her attention with a quick tap on her hand.  He quickly put a finger to his lips, and she nodded.

Under the sound of clattering furniture and the scrape of the chest and the arguing of the Urdlenites--for who else could they be, with their mole-shaped drill and the metal claws on their gloves?--Davenport began to sing, very quietly.  He poured a healing spell into the notes and wrapped them around Windi's leg.  She grimaced and sucked in a sharp breath as her bone knit itself back up again.

Metal screamed as the Urdlenites tore open the lock on the antique chest.  The pale one swore as he rooted around inside with one hand.  "Ugh, nothing but a bunch of ugly dance costumes!"  He spat on the floor.

Davenport signaled to Windi that she should try to sneak out of the room.  She shook her head, and pointed to the cultists.  She wasn't leaving.

Davenport frowned.  He slid closer to her--

\--and was knocked back by a blast of necrotic energy.  He hit the floor hard, his breath leaving him, his whole body numb.  He couldn't move.

"Looks like we got another one," said One-Eye. 

Scarecrow giggled.  "Oh, he looks like he's just _full_ of blood!" she sang.  "We should save him for sacrifice!"

"We're wasting time," Cave Fish snarled, turning back to the drill.  "You said it would be here!"

A fourth gnome emerged from the drill's cabin, wild auburn curls falling across her broad shoulders.  "That's because it _is_ here," she said.  "I'm sure of it!"  She pulled off a pair of goggles and glanced around the room, and her eyes fell on Davenport.

Cookie grinned.  "Heyoo, partner," she said.

"C-cookie?"  The word came out broken through his paralyzed jaw.  The numbness was fading to an awful tingling sensation.  "W-what're you…d-doing?"  He forced a deep breath into his lungs, tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing.  "I th-thought you s-s-said…holy g-ground…"

She leapt down from the drill.  "Oh, it's holy ground, all right!  Sanctified by Garl himself."  She spat on the tiles.  "And tonight, it will be a holy battle ground, where he loses to my lord Urdlen!"

"But you're a--"  He broke off, wondering desperately if this was some sort of undercover gambit on her part.

"A Justifier?" she finished, with a laugh.  "Of course I am!  Gives me the legal authority to beat anyone I want into a bloody pulp!"  She slammed one fist into her palm.  The other Urdlenites laughed. 

So much for that.  "Even your fellow cultists?" he asked, remembering the thief she'd beaten in front of him.

She laughed even louder.  Davenport's stomach dropped.

"He wasn't an Urdlenite," he said, putting the pieces together.  "You _planted_ that glove on him!"

She shrugged, pulling out her own pair of steel-clawed gloves and slipping them over her hands.  "Gotta make sure everyone remembers who they need to be scared of," she said.  "Gotta keep 'em just the right amount of terrified.  So when Lord Urdlen breaches…" 

His eyes widened.  "There'll be panic in the streets," he said.

She grinned.  "It'll be a bloodbath."

Davenport gritted his teeth.  Feeling was slowly crawling back into his arms.  He pushed himself upright against the desk, gasping.  "Not if I can help it," he said.

One-Eye barked a laugh.  "I'd like to see you try to stop us," he said with a sneer.  "Once we have Garl's Blessing, we'll feed it to Urdlen, and this city will fall!"

"I'll never tell you where it is!" said Windi, getting to her feet.  Davenport realized with no small horror that she was willing to fight the cultists, even if they killed her--which they probably would.

Scarecrow tittered.  "We don't need you to tell us anything!" she said.  "Lord Urdlen will show us the way!"  And she spoke a spell.

The words were in an unfamiliar, guttural language, and the sound of them grated across Davenport's soul like steel claws.  It was the same feeling as when Urdlen opened its eyes:  the feeling of being _found_ and then pinned down, helpless and exposed.  Windi gasped and landed hard beside him.  Her eyes were wide and her mouth open as if all the breath had been yanked from her.

Items throughout the room began to glow, in different colors and intensities.  It was like a version of Detect Magic, but it wasn't necessarily magic it was detecting.  Urdlen reveled in the destruction of beautifully-made, well-crafted items, and so the old, beloved dance costumes shimmered and the antique chest shone, and a fine old chair beneath a white dustcloth beamed a soft, gentle amber.  It was everything Urdlen wanted to break.

And from inside a small, sturdy iron safe, the Light of Creation shone like the sun.

Cave Fish kicked aside a chair and pulled out the safe.  Scarecrow spoke another word and pressed her hand against the lock, which began to bubble and hiss.

Windi turned to face him, and blinked.  "Davenport," she said faintly.  "You're _glowing_.  Why are you glowing?!"

He looked down at his hands.  A soft golden glow shone from under his skin.

Cookie was staring at him, too.  Both her eyebrows shot up, and she grinned--a wider, fiercer, _hungrier_ grin than he'd ever seen on her before.  "Heyoo, what luck!" she cried.  "Urdlen has granted me the chance to kill not just one emissary of Garl's, but _two!_ "  She stepped forward, her steel claws gleaming.  "Tell me, are you going to squeal like the last one?  Are you going to cry, and beg for mercy?"

"Wait, wait!"  Davenport scooted back, raising his hands.  "Listen, Garl didn't--he didn't send the Light.  It's got nothing to do with him or his blessing, or some battle between him and Urdlen."  He could feel Windi's eyes on him, but it was all he could think to say.  "But if you give the Light to Urdlen, Cookie, this world is going to end!"

She grinned.  "I know!  Isn't it great?"

That…wasn't the answer he expected.

The door to the safe clanged against the floor.  Cave Fish reached inside and withdrew the Light of Creation.

"Urdlen's signs have told us about the shadow that will consume all!" said Scarecrow, breathless and reverent.  "A storm of pure and endless destruction!  And when it consumes us, we will ascend!"

Windi sighed, and got to her feet a second time, unsteady but resolute.  "Even if it isn't Garl's Blessing," she said, "I'm still not going to let Urdlen destroy such a precious thing!"

Davenport pushed himself to his feet, took Windi's hand.  "Windi," he said, "don't do this.  You need to leave--"

She looked at him.  "Is it true, what they say?  About this…this storm?"

He nodded. 

"Then," and she squeezed his hand, "it's my duty to stop them."

He didn't know what else to do to hold her back.  He closed his eyes and reached out to Garl.  He could sense his patron watching the unfolding situation from his home in the Golden Hills; and he could sense, too, the awful nauseating presence of Urdlen as he tunneled up towards the city. 

_Did you know?_  he asked.  _Who the cultists were?  What their plan was?_

_No,_ said Garl.  _But now that they've revealed themselves, we can act._ He drew Arumdina, and began to tap his foot in a steady rhythm.

Davenport sucked in a breath.  He began to tap out the same rhythm against Windi's palm.  ONE and two and three and, ONE and two and three and… "Windi," he said, "don't do this because you feel it's your duty."  He winked.  "Do it because you _want to."_     

Her eyes narrowed in confusion.  And then her mouth opened in a tiny 'oh' as she registered the tapping against her hand.  _Left_ -back right-step left-front, _Left_ -back right-step left-front…

"You're not gonna be stopping anything," said Cookie.  "You're gonna be blood spilled on the floor to sate my lord!"  She glanced at One-Eye.  "You take the dance instructor.  The emissary is mine." 

Behind them, a tower of chairs leaned precariously from where the safe had been shoved aside.  _Garl,_ he prayed, _if you want to drop some divine beats, now would be a good time!_

Garl hefted Arumdina.  _Oh, with pleasure and fury, my Utirhant!_   And he leapt from the celestial plane, streaking like a golden comet straight down towards Urdlen.

_Left_ -back right-step left-front, _left_ -back right-step pause--

**_BOOM._ **

Garl struck and the earth shook, chairs came crashing down and Davenport kicked Cookie in the chest, sending her staggering backwards.  He and Windi danced into the fray, spinning and turning to avoid Scarecrow's slashing claws, moving to a beat only the two of them could hear.  He dipped Windi low as a savage-looking dagger sailed over their heads.  When they came up again, she lashed out with one elbow straight into Scarecrow's jaw.  The Urdlenite stumbled back and fell.  Windi scooped up her fallen dance baton with her tail and brought it down hard on Cave Fish's foot, straight on the lead beat.  He screeched and hopped backwards, eyes watering.  Davenport swung around and punched him square in the jaw.  Cave Fish staggered backwards and tripped over a fallen chair.

The floor rumbled in an uneven bass note.  Far below them, he could sense Garl in combat with Urdlen, beating it back, the force of Arumdina's blows slicing through rock and ringing against the mole's steel claws.  Urdlen screeched, one of its claws slipping beneath his guard, slicing cold across his arm--

A steel claw raked Davenport's own arm and he hissed, almost losing the beat.  One-Eye grinned, launching out with his other clawed glove.  Windi yanked Davenport out of the way, one arm securely around his waist.  The claws whiffed past, missing them both by a bare few inches.

She squeezed his hand in silent signal.  He nodded, picked her up and swung her around.  She brought up her feet and kicked One-Eye straight on the side of his head.

One-Eye stumbled back, but stopped before he hit the ground.  He made a strange whining noise and looked down to see a trio of steel claws sticking out of his chest.

Cookie yanked her glove back out of him and kicked him forward.  He hit the ground, already dead.  "Weak," she growled.

Cave Fish groaned and struggled to get up.  Cookie kicked him in the side and drove her claws through him, too.  "Weak!"

Davenport glanced over to see Scarecrow, but the other Urdlenite lay curled in a pile of her own blood, unmoving.  Struck down by a blow neither he nor Windi had inflicted.  He stumbled and fell still, the dance trailing to a stop like a dying heartbeat.  For one brief moment, he wondered again whose side Cookie was on.  And which possibility was worse.

"Weak, weak, weak!" Cookie screamed.  She spread her clawed hands wide when she was done, blood still dripping from the blades.  "Lord Urdlen, accept these sacrifices!  Drink deep their blood, spare your servant…"  And she turned her gaze on Davenport, pointing one clawed hand towards him like an accusation.  "…And grant me victory over the champion of your hated enemy!"

The room went dark.  Urdlen's power surged upwards, flooding the room and sending a wave of cold nausea through Davenport.  Even his darkvision couldn't penetrate this cloud of inky black.  He squeezed Windi's hand tightly, as much to reassure her as to reorient himself as the world spun around him.  "Garl?  Garl, can you hear me?"

Through the door in his heart, he felt power slamming against power, gold against steel.

_He's a little--oof--busy right now!_ came Arumdina's voice.  _Fighting off a giant blind mole god who wants to kill everything!  What is it?_

"It's kind of related!”  Davenport's mouth was dry.  Light slowly came back into the room.  He could see shadows moving, but no details.  “Is Cookie an emissary of Urdlen?!"

He could see her now, standing in the middle of the room, head bowed.  Slowly she lifted her face to look at him.  Her eyes were white and blind.

_Well, fuck,_ said Arumdina.  _She is now._

Cookie laughed.  "I can see everything…" she said, in a rough, reverent whisper.

Davenport shuddered.  The initial flood of Urdlen's power was receding, but he still felt it like cold fingers on the back of his neck.  "Windi," he said, "you need to go."

"I'm not going to leave my studio--"

"If you stay here, she's going to kill you!"  He pushed her back towards the door.  "Go, run, get help!  Sound the alarm, round up some non-crazy Justifiers, just _go!_ "

She took one more look at Cookie.  She squeezed Davenport's hand and ran.

"I can see you!" Cookie shrieked, lunging at her.

Davenport leapt to intervene, drawing a dagger and catching her steel claws with it.  He pulled out a throwing knife with his other hand.  "You wanna fight me?  Well, I’m right here!"  He kicked her backwards.

The scar on his hand tingled.  Power snapped through him, a feeling like he was a bottle being filled up with lightning.  His vision blurred, and when it cleared again, his weapons shone and sparkled in his hands. 

The Blessing of Arumdina.

_Use it wisely, kiddo,_ she said.  _Heads up!_

He lifted the dagger just in time to block another slicing blow from Cookie.  He brought up the knife in his other hand, but she caught it in her steel claws.  She kicked him viciously in the shin, using the advantage of her superior weight to push him backwards.

He rolled to the side, disengaging in order to give himself some space.  But she was right beside him, her claws tearing into his shoulder.  The steel shimmered a deep blue, and where it cut him, it burned beneath his skin like poison.  He cried out, staggering backwards. 

"First blood!" she sang. 

He flung the throwing knife at her.  It was a blind toss, more desperate than anything.  But it found its mark regardless, striking Cookie just beneath her right shoulder guard.  She screamed and pulled it out, but it crackled with golden lightning and she dropped it before she could even attempt to throw it back at him. 

_Not today, Urdlen!_ Arumdina snarked.

He reached into his pocket.  This was a serious fight, and if he was killed, the Light would fall to Urdlen.  The city might panic if the ship arrived, but he needed backup.

But his Stone wasn't there.

Cookie held out her claws and charged straight at him.  He lobbed a small chair in her direction but she knocked it aside easily, her claws leaving traces of darkness where they passed.  He tried to dodge, but she grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and yanked him onto the floor.  She landed hard on his chest, and he barely had time to bring up his dagger to block a slicing blow as the air was squeezed from his chest.

"Oh, you'll be a tasty treat for Urdlen!"  She pushed down with all her weight, her claws inching steadily towards his face.  "A nice appetizer before he swallows Garl's Blessing and ends this world--"

_"_ _She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck!"_ sang Taako, his voice high and mellifluous. _"Thighs like what, what, what!  Baby move your butt, butt, butt!  I think I'll sing it again…"_

Cookie froze, her ears flicking backwards.  Davenport looked past her, following the sound of his own Stone of Farspeech which he'd thought he'd silenced--unless it had already been on silent mode and he'd turned it off by mistake, and--oof, he was going to owe an apology to Merle.  _After_ he scolded Taako for changing his ringtone again. 

The Stone had fallen in the middle of the floor, between him and the drill.  Only a few feet away was Windi, clutching the Light of Creation.  She turned and stared at them both, eyes wide.

Cookie smirked.  "Trying to sneak in and steal it from behind me?  I know you're there, Windi!  I don't need eyes for that!"  And she launched herself off of Davenport, straight at the instructor. 

Davenport drove his dagger into Cookie's thigh, throwing her forward.  Windi was scrambling back, face pale in the darkness.  "Windi, I told you to get out of here!"

"I couldn't risk the Blessing!"

"It'll be your last mistake!" Cookie cried, pulling herself forward.  Davenport held onto her, trying to hold her down with his knee in the small of her back.  Cookie tried to roll over, hoping to dislodge him.

Windi scrambled back further, her route to the door now blocked by the battle.  She grabbed the Stone and thumbed it.  "Captain, you there?" came Barry's voice. 

"Barry, we need to get the Light out, _now!"_

"Who is this?" Windi asked.  "Is Davenport your captain?"

"Uh…who is this?" asked Barry in return. 

Cookie laughed.  "Sounds like a human!"  She bucked Davenport off and raked him across the side.  He swore through gritted teeth as Urdlen's power coursed through his veins like poison.  "You've been lying to us, haven't you?  I knew it!  I knew you weren't one of us!"  Cookie was on her feet.  She kicked him savagely in the stomach.  "You were just going to hand the Blessing over to outsiders?"  She turned towards Windi and took a step forward, extending her hand.  "Give the Blessing to me, Windi, and Urdlen will spare you!  You will live rich and sated until ascension comes--" 

Davenport let fly another trio of throwing knives.  Cookie whirled and knocked them away with a swipe of her claws.  But while her arms were extended, Davenport ran low beneath her guard and collided with her, throwing his hands around her stomach.  She landed hard on the floor.

"Whoa, what the heck is going on over there?" asked Barry, a rising note of panic in his voice.  "Captain, we're on our way!"

Windi stared at the Stone.  "You're calling them in," she said, throat tight.  "From the outside…?"

"Windi, listen to me," said Davenport, as he tried to hold down a thrashing Cookie.  "It's true, I'm from outside of Fairvale.  I'm--oof!--not even from this planet!  But everything else I told you was absolutely true!  We need to get the Light or this world is doomed!  Please--oof--Windi, you just have to trust me!"

"Uh, I feel weird interjecting into this conversation, uh, Windi?" said Barry.  "But he's telling the truth, for whatever the opinion of a stranger on a Stone is worth to you, I guess?  Also, you'll probably wanna get out of there soon.  There is _major_ celestial activity going on right below your location and, uh, I don't think it's going to be very safe…"

As if on cue, the floor began to rumble again.  "My lord Urdlen!" Cookie screeched.  She kicked Davenport savagely in the stomach and twisted, so she was on top of him now.  She raised one clawed hand to bring it down straight at his throat.  "He'll be here any moment and I'm _not going to lose to a weakling like you--_ "

Windi slammed her dance baton into the side of Cookie's head.  She fell over, stunned.

"The door!" Davenport shouted.  _"Go go go!"_

_Arumdina, what's the status?_ he shouted through the door in his heart.  _Any luck on beating back Urdlen?_

_Uh, just hold onto your tail!_ she called back.  _Things are about to get weird--_

Cookie's claws raked down his backside, catching onto his tunic and yanking him backwards.  Davenport hit the floor hard and for a moment he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he could only stare.  Windi turned in surprise, just as dust and splintered wood exploded from the center of the room, and the sky was pierced by an unholy shriek like rusted metal.  The giant white body of Urdlen pushed through the spot where the mechanical mole-drill had burrowed. 

And then the ceiling blew open in a blaze of fire, and through the cloud of dust Davenport could see a golden ship, and a golden beam of holy light shining from the hull and slamming into Urdlen.  A victorious shout from the twins, a cry of despair from Cookie, the flash of red robes and the blaze of the Light of Creation.  He could barely see what was going on, and the world was fading fast.

_You're good, Utirhant,_ said Garl's voice, gentle and worn and confident.  _I'll take it from here._

And then Davenport lost consciousness.

 

#

 

He woke to see Merle's beaming face hovering over him.  "Welcome back, skipper!" said the dwarf.  "How ya feelin'?"

Davenport groaned.  "Like I just got run over by a dozen apple carts."  He winced against the throbbing in his head.  "What just--Urdlen--"  He opened his eyes again, but there was no giant white mole in the room.  Windi stood by a handful of armored Justifiers and a pair of confused-looking Jewels from Garl's temple.  A badly-singed Cookie stood bound and handcuffed between a pair of guards.  The priests and Windi were talking with Lup and Magnus, the latter of whom held the Light in his hands.

"Just take it slow, Cap," said Taako, from his other side.  Lowering his voice, he added, "So get this?  The locals here think we've come because their top god gave us the go-ahead.  So if they ask you if you work for him, you just say yes."

Davenport narrowed his eyes.  "Taako…"

"I know, I know you don't like it when we play the 'we're gods' card, but in this case it's like, we're just working for this guy, right?  Barl Glimmergold, or something like that?  Just gave us a metaphorical divine thumbs-up to fly our ship over his city and blast this giant albino mole-monster for him.  I mean, who am I to argue?"

Davenport sat up, and nearly fell back again as the room spun.  Merle caught him and held him upright.  "Garl Glittergold," he said automatically, still not really sure what in Garl's name had even happened. 

"See?  Cap, you're a natch at this!"

"Just…"  He ran his fingers through his hair.  "Take it from the top, okay?  Garl…spoke to you?"

"Nah," said Merle, "we just flew our ship over the city, following your signal, but the moment we crossed over the wall there was this weird light and the ship turned gold?"

"Major illusion magic, my man," added Taako.  "Don't know if it's some sort of area affect though, but whatever?  Some gnome down in the city blinged out our ship for some reason and we're like, okay, cool!"

"And then Barry parked the ship over this building and he was all, 'Captain's down there!' and something about some sort of energy being off the charts?  Heck, even _I_ could feel something in my bones.  Anyway he was gettin' kinda frantic--"

"--which was when Lup just blasted a hole in the roof to get to you.  But--get this!  Whatever was affecting the ship affected her spells, too, so her fireballs looked like these golden beams of light which were hella tight, I gotta say.  And when the smoke cleared there was this giant mole monster--"

"And it was going, _aaarrgh_ and _skreeee_!" Merle added, contorting his face into a bizarre grimace and waving his hands around.

"So Lup and I just blasted the thing, and we're not sure if it just evaporated or crawled back into its hole but when we were done, it was just _gone_ , so I mean we'll take that as a victory!  And while we were sorting everything out, the priests from the temple came and said all the gold light was a sign from their god, so it was a good thing that we came and played whack-a-mole for them and they weren't gonna, like, kill us as invaders or something, which is great!  I am all for not dying!"

"Yeah," Merle said, "maybe they won't start firing arrows at every poor sap who approaches their gates anymore!"

Davenport blinked as pieces began to fall into place.  _Garl,_ he said, _did you...did you plan this?  Was it all a setup?  Just to get the city to stop being so paranoid about outsiders?_

_Ha!  I wish I had that kind of foresight, my Utirhant!  No, this was just me taking advantage of the pieces already in play._

_But letting the Starblaster take out Urdlen?  Windi could've been killed!  My crew could've been--_ He broke off at the sound of Garl laughing.

_Urdlen never breached, my boy!_ he said.  _Oh, I admit it was a close one, but I beat him back.  What your friends so heroically defeated was an illusion.  And a damn fine one, at that!_

_They also got Cookie,_ Arumdina added, with more than a little bit of smugness.  _They burnt that Cookie to a crisp!  Heyoo!_

Davenport slapped his forehead and dragged his hand down his face. 

_She's so kicked out of my fan club, by the way,_ Arumdina added.  There was a pause, and then she added, _You did good, kiddo.  I never thought I'd say this, but…thanks for proving me wrong about you._

He closed his eyes.  _It's all right,_ he thought.  _I understand why you doubted._

"Y'all right there?" Merle asked, pulling him back out of his internal conversation.  "You spaced out there for a minute."

"He's probably just thinkin' about all the things that could possibly go wrong," said Taako.  "I tell ya, Cap, we got this!  It's in the bag.  Well, and by bag I mean Maggie's hands."

He cleared his throat.  "Of…of course.  Thank you, Taako."  He got to his feet.  Merle had healed him well, but his body still ached, and there were fading, unnaturally purple scars where Cookie's blades had scored him. 

Windi turned to him, and a smile of relief spread across her face.  He slipped his Captain role back over his shoulders, and nodded.  "I apologize for the damage done to your establishment," he said.  "Are you all right?  Do you require any more healing?"

She shook her head.  "I'm good, thank you," she said.  "Are you--"

"You're mole food, Davenport!" Cookie howled, tugging savagely against her restraints while the other Justifiers held her back.  "You may have stopped Urdlen this time, but _the storm is coming!_   Urdlen is eternal, and he will have his due!"

"Get this scum out of here," the Justifier captain growled. 

"I can smell your fear, Davenport!" she laughed, as they dragged her away.  "You know I'm right!  You know…!"

Windi was looking at him, her eyes full of unspoken questions.  He cleared his throat and drew himself up.

"Once the Light is secured," he said, "there is no danger of this world being consumed.  Preparations against…further attacks will be discussed with your leaders."

Windi must have sensed the new formality in his voice, because she responded only with a nod and a quiet "Of course, um…Captain Davenport."

He never thought being addressed with his title would sting.  "Also," he rushed on, "since a good portion of the damage was done by my crew, the least we can do is help you restore the building." 

Magnus gave her a thumbs up.  "I have a woodworking proficiency!" he said.  "And Lucy's super great with paint!"

"That's very kind of you," she said, with a tentative smile.  "I don't think the studio necessarily needs a second skylight."

It took him a moment to realize she was making a joke.  He gave her a tight smile and cleared his throat again, though he didn't need to.  "Anyway, I should probably go talk to the Jewel.  There's much to discuss, and—"

"Of course.  Duty calls."

"Yes.  Right.  Of course."  He swallowed.  "Listen, Windi…Thank you.  For your help.  For what it's worth, I did, uh…have fun in your classes.  Despite myself."

Both her eyebrows lifted. 

"And…well, I still have my duty to the Mission, but…if you do keep the studio open after all this, and—and keep having classes, I think…"  He took a deep breath.  "I think I'd like to try again.  For real this time."

She tilted her head and regarded him, both eyebrows still raised.  "Because you want to?"

"Yeah," he said.  "Because I want to."

 

#

 

Mavis shoves her glasses up her nose.  In the wake of the story, the air between her and Uncle Dav is calm and quiet.  The music drifting towards them from the distant bonfire has wound down; Merle is playing a gentle melody on the pan pipes while the campers settle in to roast marshmallows.

"And?" she asks.  "Did you save her studio?  Did the city open its gates again?  What about the Starlight Festival?"

He chuckles.  "Yes, yes, and of course they held the Festival.  I've never seen a temple of Garl turn down an opportunity for a party."  The corner of his mouth twitches in a small smile.  "I helped Windi put together a dance, and…um, I even danced a little solo part." 

She looks at her feet.  "Was it scary?  Doing a solo part, I mean."

"A little, yeah," he admits after a moment.  Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he adds, "Between you and me, even starship captains can get stage fright sometimes."

She smiles.  A comfortable silence falls between them again.  Uncle Dav tilts his head back to watch the stars, and Mavis follows his gaze.  She never got a chance to see the Starblaster in person, but she wonders what it must've been like to fly up above the clouds and into the stars.

"Hey, Uncle Dav?"

"Yeah, Mavis?"

"Will you teach me some of your dances?" she asks.  "Some of them sounded, um, kinda fun?"

He smiles.  "I'd be glad to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thanks for joining me down this Emissary Davenport rabbit hole! And thanks for all your comments and kudos! It brings my writer heart joy to see people really engaging with this particular take on our favorite gnome captain. You're all wonderful, and your support is appreciated to the bottom of my heart. Peace!


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